


Could Have Stopped It

by GillianSaysRAWR



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 07:55:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GillianSaysRAWR/pseuds/GillianSaysRAWR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock overreacts to events from a dangerous case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Could Have Stopped It

“No! Don’t you dare!” I scrambled to grab things before he got the chance to do the same. His tall frame wondered around the flat, rummaging through things that he would need while he was away.

“John, don’t try to stop me. I need time. Just this once.” This was unlike Sherlock, he needed time to _clear_ his mind, not _fill_ it. 

“But, why?! Nothing happened!” I tried to reason with him, but my tone kept getting louder. Noticing this, I lowered it, “It wasn’t at all your fault either.”

He cut his eyes at me, he face becoming more stone like. “You almost died.”

I snorted, “We both almost die, all the time.” A shiver went down my spine as Moriarty’s voice echoed in my head, _That’s what people DO!_

Sherlock stopped for a second, as if he heard the voice himself, then he continued his packing. “Never have you been that close before.” 

Replying to that would have been stupid, so I finally stopped talking. He seemed to notice this, but decided to let it go for once. For some reason, all of this was registering very largely in  
Sherlock’s brain, which was a weird thing. Normally, after a week or so, incidents like the one in question are deleted.

It’s been two months.

Sherlock never frets over such matters for this long, they seem of little importance to him. So what? I was nearly stabbed in the head by a flying knife. This is normal to him – to us. However, he seemed to take this personally.

“Might I ask where you’re planning to go?” My tone was calm now.

“Can’t say, you might try to find me.”

And with a kiss on the cheek, he left.

\---

I poured my tea, holding the cup with my shaking hand. Mornings began to be rather dreadful since Sherlock left. Crying ensued as soon as he slammed the door. Mrs. Hudson has also kept a heavier eye on me since that day. She thinks that I’ll go mad, and she’s probably right about that. Sherlock leaving left me with this void, a giant void. Sure, the loss of another body walking around the flat, another body lying next to you at night, becomes evident, but the emotional void is a much bigger one. It hopelessly makes up scenarios where the outcome is your wish is filled – the void is filled – however, you reenter reality and you slam into a brick wall. 

Lestrade told me that I didn’t have to take on so many cases, that the police could take care of things for now. If Sherlock had heard that, he would’ve laughed for a week.

October came around again, making it month five without Sherlock. The flat’s empty feeling was still one I could not get used to. However, one day made the flat seem as if the emptiness was fading away. 

While I made my morning tea and read the paper, sitting in the chair across from the chair that was once occupied daily by the man I love, my phone buzzed. I thought nothing of it, so I took to finishing my article, and then glanced at the message a minute later. My heart stopped.

_Don’t let Mrs. Hudson’s shriek startle you. – SH_

I waited, and as if on cue, a scream was heard from below. I smiled, knowing what that meant. 

Sounds of footsteps soon began to flutter up the stairs and the stairs and my door swung open.

“Look who came back!” Mrs. Hudson exclaimed, she was ecstatic. 

Sherlock smiled at me, his eyes glimmering. He had not changed at all; hair still in perfectly abstract curls, cheekbones still chiseled on his face, and he was still much taller than I was. 

“Hello John.” He said, his lips curling into a smile.

My heart raced, and I ran to him. He engulfed me in his long arms and his string-like fingers gripped onto me.

“Best leave you two alone for right now.” Mrs. Hudson has become more courteous since Sherlock left. 

When the door shut, I pushed him away. “What made you think leaving would be such a wonderful idea? Do you know what I’ve been through?!” I was angry, very angry.

“I…I thought it would be best for you – for us. John, you almost died.” He seemed taken aback by what had just happened. His words came out choppy and from a place of distant regret.

“Not this same old argument again Sherlock! We always used to tempt death! I began to think it was your favorite past time! Nothing was different that night! Nothing was out of the ordinary! I almost died and that’s happened on many other occasions! I was stationed in Afghanistan for God’s sake!” My voice was getting louder, and frankly, I didn’t care.

“I could have stopped it. I was being selfish, thinking of my own safety while yours was in jeopardy. Don’t lie to yourself John; you’ve never come that close to the end while you were with me.” He said. His eyes were calm, his words came out smooth. 

I bit my lip, frustrated with him. However, he was right, he was always right. Not once had I come that close to death while with Sherlock.

“See..you’re retreating now. You know I’m right.” 

My eyes looked up and locked with his, he had this smug look on his face. I knew he’s been waiting to use that look on me ever since he walked out the damn door. I walked over to him, the air between us slowly disappearing until it was fully gone. His arm wrapped around me and pulled me to my toes, making it easier for a kiss. Our lips soon crashed together, and my hand began twisting around in his garden of curls. His long fingers roamed my body and my body began to ache. He let go and led me to our bedroom for something that was five months overdue.


End file.
